


Foggy Dew

by LiteralCaskOfAmontillado



Series: The Foggy Dew [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteralCaskOfAmontillado/pseuds/LiteralCaskOfAmontillado
Summary: Oh had they died by Pearse's side, or fought with Cathal Brugha, their names we will keep where the fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dewHeresy finds out firsthand that dyingdoessuck, and that the Eye of All is kind of a brat. Both of these things, she already knew.
Series: The Foggy Dew [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735855
Kudos: 3





	Foggy Dew

The Eye of All had served Heresy well. It had warned her of danger, heartbreak, and things that her quickly dying brain couldn’t begin to remember. The synapses were dying with her, and she didn’t remember when her body had ever felt so heavy before. Over 1,000 years relying on the magic of dead gods. She’d hefted Ardblair Stones like feathers and tossed her enemies through walls like throwing a ball for a dog. Now, she could barely keep her hand pressed down on the gouge slashed into her midsection.

“Heracles, we need to talk,” she was saying, and then her younger brother threw an entire chair at her. The usual immortal family problems, as they were. But that wasn’t happening right now. This was a memory from years ago.

When the Eye showed her things like this, she wondered why so many people insisted on trying to steal it right out of her head. Sure, if you knew how to use it, the Eye was useful. It might tell you when your arch-nemesis was coming to steal your fingers, but it also might remind you what could happen if you forgot to renew your car insurance that year.

She laughed weakly, wheezing out droplets of blood down the front of her jacket. The Eye had just proved her point, showing her a memory from years ago. She’d bought a young grifter a sandwich and a coffee when visiting Dublin. As he turned to leave, he’d also knicked her mobile phone and pocket knife in the process. 

Dying fucking sucks, she thought, easing herself against the rickety dock. Heresy always knew she’d die somehow. Old age wasn’t something that people like her worried about, but back stabbings and eviscerations were.

Mara was crying, and Heresy groaned as she strained to reach for her baby girl. But her daughter, now grown, wasn’t anywhere close by. Heresy let the Eye show her the first moments Heresy had spent holding the feisty little warrior, and she started crying again.

The fog was rolling in from Castlemaine Harbour, towards where she was slumped on Rossbeigh Strand. Some poor mortal would find her here in the morning, eviscerated, with what looked like a regular sapphire in the place of her left eye. It would spark conspiracy theories for years, about the Rossbeigh Woman found with her guts spilled and the mysterious sapphire in her head. It would peak when her body is stolen from their morgue, probably by her own brother, or her daughter. That was a problem for them to worry about, though. Not hers for once, thank god.

T’was better to die ‘neath an Irish sky, indeed.

  
  



End file.
